- Vol. 04
- Chapter 11
How dare we plan for tomorrow, How arrogant is man?
Do we fear death too less? Or we love life too little? Or do you sometimes think too that we fear life so we let it do what it can.
Maybe it's just me, but the fear is red, Like my shawl, it drapes me twice Sometimes, it feels so comfortable and warm, and sometimes, like a bed of ice
Sometimes, I don’t have to show you much to see through you from these eyes
There is a world underneath my red shawl and a world outside.